


one night in the park

by Medie



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a chuckle, he wrote in the margins "Identity confirmed, Spock of Vulcan, mostly harmless."</p>
            </blockquote>





	one night in the park

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/profile)[**deirdre_c**](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/) for my Birthday Drabble-A-Thon.

"Okay boys, ice cream. Just like I promised," Dad said as he parked the Impala. "Best ice cream in San Francisco too," he winked at Dean, who grinned. "Everybody out."

The California sun was warm on Dean's head as he slid out of the car. Behind him, Sammy let out a cheer of excitement, clapping his chubby hands together. "S'ce ceam!" he announced with glee.

Dean's grin widened as he shucked off his jean jacket, throwing it into the backseat. "Yeah, chocolate double fudge swirl. Two scoops."

Dad chuckled and put Sammy down next to him. Dean immediately took his little brother's hand and looked up. "You're gonna make yourself sick with that," Dad told him, opening up his wallet and pulling out a couple bills.

"Maybe," Dean held out his other hand to take the money. "Don't worry, I won't puke in the car and you won't even have to stop."

"Well, you're not hanging out the window," Dad chuckled. "Last thing we need is you braining yourself on the interstate." He passed a hand over Dean's hair, ruffling it. "I'm gonna go call Pastor Jim, okay?" He pointed at the payphone not too far from the ice cream stand. "You and Sammy get your ice cream and sit at the picnic table. You know the rules, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not a baby," he said, tightening his grip on Sammy's hand. "Anybody grabs for me or Sammy, raise hell." He grinned as his father gave him a sharp look. "Okay, okay, make a noise."

"Good," Dad said.

Leading Sammy toward the ice cream stand, Dean didn't look back but he knew Dad was still watching them. He shook his head and laughed, like he was going to let anything happen.

-

When Dad sat down next to them, Dean pushed the sundae toward him with a grin. "We're staying, aren't we?"

He nodded once. "Just for a couple of days, there's something weird going on in the park." He looked at them. "Guess we're going to get to do a little camping after all."

He sounded disappointed but Dean saw the look his eyes and grinned. "Awesome," he said, licking ice cream off his finger. "Can we teach Sammy how to make s'mores?"

Dad opened his mouth and, for a second, Dean thought he was going to get the speech about hunting but no. Dad just said, "We'll have to be careful, I don't think you're supposed to have fires here."

Dean grinned. "Like we _ever_ get caught."

In his defense, he totally didn't think it was his fault Dad snorted vanilla ice cream out his nose.

-

"I'm gonna need to hose your brother down after this," Dad said, looking at a chocolate and marshmallow covered Sammy.

"Yeah, but he likes 'em," Dean said, shoving another one into his own mouth. "And that's the important part, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose it is," Dad ruffled his hair again. "Good idea, kiddo."

Dean covered his beaming grin by reaching for the marshmallow bag again. "Aw, man, we're out!" He held it up for his father's perusal.

"Well, I'd say we've had enough," Dad observed, taking the bag and shoving it with the other trash. "If you didn't get sick over the ice cream today, you're sure as hell going to now."

"Ha," Dean shook his head. "Pastor Jim says I've got a cast-iron stomach." He didn't know what that was but he thought it sounded tough and that was the important part. "I can eat anything!"

Dad chuckled. "Eat, yes. Keeping it down's another story."

"Aw, c'mon, Dad, we're on _vacation_," Dean pointed out. "We're supposed to be eating too much and making ourselves sick."

"We're not on vacation, Dean," Dad reminded, still grinning, "but tell you what, I'm gonna go look around and see what's supposed to be going on here. When I get back, if you're still awake, we'll make a few more before bed. Okay?"

Dean knew a diversion when he saw one and set his jaw, nodding firmly. "Deal," he held out his hand and tried not to look smug when his father shook it.

"Good," Dad said. "Deal." He shook Dean's hand and then got up. "Stay away from the fire," he ordered as he ducked inside the tent with a sleepy Sammy. "It'll burn just fine without you poking at it."

"_Dad_," Dean frowned. "I know." He scooted backward dramatically as if to demonstrate and when his father emerged from the tent again, he held up his hands. "See?" He said, exasperated. "I won't touch it."

His look seemed to amuse his father who nodded once. "Good," he agreed. "Keep an eye out and don't let anybody in the tent."

Dean didn't say anything to that, just gave a nod that echoed his father's. As soon as Dad was out of sight, he got up and sat in front of the tent as if daring anybody to try.

After a while, he leaned back on his hands and let his gaze go to the stars. Mom would love this.

-

He fell asleep. The snap of a foot breaking a twig was as good as a gunshot and Dean snapped upright, looking around wildly. He'd fallen _asleep_! Dad was going to kill him. The fire was low, almost coals, so it had been a while. Heart hammering in his chest, he rose up onto his knees and looked inside the tent to make sure Sammy was okay.

Seeing that he was, Dean grabbed a gun and rushed outside. "Freeze!" he snapped, leveling the gun at the figure moving along the campsite.

Whoever it was stopped short of the trees, holding up his hands automatically. "Okay," a man said cautiously. "Mind telling me why I'm freezing? Or are we just practicing?"

"Who are you?" Dean demanded, cocking the gun. "What do you want?"

"Name's Jim," the man said, edging forward into the lamplight. "Jim Kirk." He grinned, no fear apparent in his face. "And you are a little young to be handling one of those."

"I'm old enough," Dean said. He'd been shooting for a whole year. "You never said what you want?"

Jim chuckled. "That's because it's a hard question to answer. At the moment, I'm just hoping to get back to my friends without a bullet in my chest. That's not the kind of souvenir I came to town looking for."

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenged. "What did you come here for?"

"Would you believe a couple of humpback whales?" Jim offered with a shrug.

"No," Dean said.

Jim chuckled. "That would be my problem lately. I'm telling people the truth and nobody believes a word of it."

"It's a dumb answer," Dean said. "What're you gonna do with _whales_?"

"Well, now, that question's even harder to explain why I'm in town." Jim said. "It's a long story and I'm not sure I can tell it to a kid who I don't know who's holding a gun on me."

"You don't look like you're scared," Dean didn't lower the gun but he took his finger off the trigger.

"Oh, I'm not." Jim smiled. "Well, I mean, I _am_ but not about that." He gestured casually at the gun. "It's been a very long time since someone threatening to shoot me was actually scary."

"Then what's scaring you?"

Jim chuckled. "Well, that's a part of the story that I can't tell you."

"Because I've got a gun and you don't know me," Dean finished.

"Exactly, yes," Jim said.

Dean lowered the gun. "I'm Dean." He tilted his head. "You going to tell me _now_?"

"Well, I did say I couldn't tell you because of the gun and the not knowing you," Jim agreed. "And I do know you now, sort of, and you're not holding the gun on me anymore." He considered it. "Mind if I sit down? If I'm going to be telling a story, I should probably be sitting down for it."

"You can sit down over there," Dean pointed at the farthest log from the tent. When Jim had seated himself on it, Dean made sure to sit himself down right in front of the tent again. The gun went onto the ground beside him and stayed in easy reach. Just because he wanted to hear this one didn't mean he trusted this guy one bit.

"It all started somewhere you've probably never heard of," Jim said. "A friend of mine had an accident and, well," he shrugged, "I sort of did something I wasn't supposed to do so I could help him." That Dean nodded to. He did stuff like that for Sammy all the time. It was a big brother thing. "Spock," Jim continued, "he's my friend and he doesn't really remember much because of the accident. But he remembers what happened after the accident and we were going to tell people what had happened. But something even worse happened and a lot of people are in danger. A lot of people I care about are in danger."

He was telling the truth about that, Dean decided. The look on his face and the way he swallowed suddenly said he was telling the truth. "And you need whales to fix it?" That part he still didn't quite believe. "How can whales fix it?"

"I have no idea," Jim said. "Not a damn clue but I know they're supposed to fix it so, I have to get two whales and there are two that are right here, right in San Francisco. All we have to do is get them and go. The problem is that our ship? It's not really built to carry whales so my friends are trying to fix that but, I'm not sure if we're going to be ready in time."

"Damn," Dean said. "You're kind of crazy, you know that?"

Jim laughed and nodded. "So I've been told. I didn't even get to the part about outer space yet."

"Oh shit," Dean stared at him. "_Outer space_? Mister, you've gotta be nuts."

"Wish I was," Jim said. "But I need those whales or people I love are going to die." He looked at Dean and Dean fidgeted. It was the look that Dad used on him, the one that he couldn't lie to. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Dean admitted quietly. "My Mom died because Dad couldn't save her and now we've gotta protect Sammy or something's gonna get him too."

Jim looked sympathetic. "That's what the gun is for?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

"Where is your Dad?" Jim inquired, looking around. "He's not in the tent is he?"

"No," Dean reached for the gun. "But Sammy is and nobody but me and Dad's allowed in there."

"Well, I'm not going in there," Jim said as something in his pocket chirruped. "In fact, I have to get going." He pointed to the tree line. "But me and my friends? We're right over there and if something happens before your Dad gets back? You and Sammy run that way, yelling for me okay?"

Dean looked at him for a moment then nodded. "Okay."

"Good man," Jim said with a nod and then he was up and gone.

"Whales and outer space…" Dean muttered, watching the trees he'd disappeared into. "People are crazy."

-

When Jim Kirk walked onto the bridge of the Enterprise, he sighed and nodded to himself. He was home.

The first few hours out of spacedock were like a dream and he only woke up when a young officer, a lieutenant from security if memory served, stopped by his chair and held out a PADD for his perusal.

"Welcome back, sir," the young man said with a grin.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said, grinning himself. "Feels damn good to be back." Jim was about to let him go about his business when he finally gave into the niggling feeling bugging him. There was something very familiar about the young man that he just couldn't place. "Hate to admit this, but I'm blanking on your name, Lieutenant."

"Winchester, sir," the lieutenant replied. "And no worries, it's my first time aboard with you."

"Winchester," Jim repeated. "Thanks."

Lieutenant Winchester nodded and took the PADD, skimming through the report himself as he walked back toward the turbolift.

"Something wrong, Captain?" Spock prompted, materializing at his shoulder.

"No, not really, just something very familiar about him," Jim gestured toward the departing Lieutenant. "Winchester. Sound familiar to you?"

"Yes," Spock nodded. "I encountered a very small boy in the park before our departure. He informed me that his name was Samuel Winchester that his Daddy and brother called him Sammy and he wanted very much to find them. They were going to make something he referred to as 's'mores' when he did." He straightened, looking out at the stars as they whisked past. "I assisted him in locating his tent and returned to the ship."

"Sammy Winchester?" Jim repeated. "I think I met that brother of his," he chuckled. "Well what're the odds?" Spock opened his mouth to answer and Jim held up a hand. "That was a rhetorical question, Spock; I'm not actually looking for an answer."

"Very well," Spock inclined his head. "Is that all?"

Jim looked over at him and grinned. "You're going to look it up aren't you?"

"I am," Spock admitted with a nod. "Given the upheaval in the century that followed, I cannot confirm that I will find anything, but I will look."

"Let me know what you find," Jim said and leaned back in his chair. "Told you I needed those whales."

"Beg your pardon, Captain?" Spock gave him a look that was reassuringly familiar. "Did you say something?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Jim waved a hand. "Just talking to myself." He turned in his chair. "Finding anything?"

Spock consulted his screen. "Extensive criminal records," he blinked. "A report of at least one mistaken death."

"Mistaken?"

"Indeed, months after Dean Winchester was supposedly shot and killed in a home invasion, he was arrested and charged with a number of murders." Spock looked at him. "It would appear, Captain, you were quite the bad influence."

"Oh sure," Jim complained, "Blame me."

-

Slipping into his quarters, Jason Winchester looked around to see if his roommate was in. Once he'd confirmed Dax wasn't in the bathroom, he went over to the bed and lifted the mattress.

He felt around for a moment until his hand landed on old, worn leather. Pulling out the journal, he sat on the bed and opened it up. The book was ancient now, centuries old, and an heirloom. His grandmother hadn't wanted him to take it into space, but he couldn't bear to part with it either.

Everything the family had become was wrapped up in its pages. Winchester after Winchester had written in it, detailed encounters with creatures, spirits, hell, even alien spirits. From John to his sons, to their sons and daughters, and on down to Jason himself.

Reaching for the pencil tucked within the journal's pages, he flipped until he found Dean's description of the strange being that his little brother Sam had encountered. With a chuckle, he wrote in the margins "Identity confirmed, Spock of Vulcan, mostly harmless."

Still grinning, he put the pencil aside and started to read.


End file.
